by A.L. Crouch
Chapter 7
“I just don’t know what you were thinking.” Sulley shook his head and paced the kitchen floor. “I told you it was best to just go with it, just let her think what she wants.”
I sat at Sulley’s kitchen table, head hung, counting the number of times Sulley stepped on the squeaky floorboard. I felt awful, despicable even. Upsetting Gram was the last thing I had ever wanted to do. But I was also glad that it had happened. Did that make me a horrible person? I wasn’t sure. I had gotten my Gram back, if even for only a moment. For those few minutes, when I looked into that smile of recognition, the world felt right again. She told me that she loved me. I wouldn’t take that back for all the world.
“She wanted to go. She was fine. Uncle Sulley, she recognized me. She was fine,” I protested, knowing it was no use, but trying anyway.
“What did she say? Before she got upset?”
“She called me by my name -MY name. She told me that she loved me. Then she got all upset and started making no sense. That’s when she saw Gary’s grave.”
Nadine entered with a sigh.
“She is resting now,” she said and sat at the table across from me. “She should be just fine when she wakes up. No need to beat yourself up about it.”
“I still can’t believe this happened. I stopped to talk to someone for one second. . .” Sulley continued.
“Now don’t you let him make you feel worse than you already do,” Nadine said and patted my hand where it rested on the table. “It was my idea that Gram go with you in the first place. The blame is on me.”
“You don’t have to . . .” I started to say.
“Have to what?” Sulley asked sharply, shutting me up.
“No child, you listen here.” Nadine said. “I thought it would do you and Gram a lot of good going out there, and I think it did.”
“I think going out there did some good too,” I agreed and I held my chin high when Sulley gaped at me in shock.
“How can you say that? You saw how upset it made her!”
I sighed, not wanting to argue. I understood exactly why Sulley was so upset. I got it, I did. He was responsible for her, and he knew his days as caretaker of Gram were numbered. She was getting worse every day. How could he possibly understand how much that moment had meant to me while he had been losing her bit-by-bit in front of his very eyes for years?
“I saw how happy she was right before that,” Nadine said and looked into my eyes. “You can’t know true happiness if you have never experienced despair, and as I am always with that woman, I can tell you that she has been through her share of despair and grief. I know it seems cruel to say, but Gram lost her son a long time ago. She has already felt that pain before and somewhere in that beautiful mind she remembers that sorrow. What she NEEDED, was the joy of seeing her beautiful grandchild. And somewhere, she remembers that too.”
Tears welled up in my eyes as she spoke. I hoped to God she was right. I mouthed a thank you and she smiled.
“And even if it was only for a moment, that one moment of pure joy broke through years of sadness and loss. She carries that bit of joy with her now. So yes, I think it did you both a world of good.”
I looked over at Sulley who was examining his boot, frustration still evident on his face.
“Look Uncle Sulley, I know she got really upset, and for that I am so very sorry. But she remembered me. Somewhere in her mind she knows that I’m here for her. That can’t be a bad thing, right?”
Sulley leaned against the counter, defeated, and rubbed his eyes with a sigh. Nadine squeezed my hand and when I looked at her, she held my gaze.
“Now you listen to me Miss Alexandra. You take to heart every single thing your Gram said to you. Don’t you feel bad for a minute, you hear?”
I nodded, knowing that I would never forget my moment with Gram. I would cherish all of it, even the ominous warning she had given me before she was lost again to the past. “Don’t trust him,” she had said, “he was there that night.” But who was she talking about? Was she just ranting off some memory from her past? I wanted to ask Sulley about it, but I didn’t dare worry him anymore. I tucked the questions away when Sulley sighed.
“Look Kiddo, I really don’t want to argue with you. What’s done is done. We’ll just have to see how she is when she wakes up in the morning.”
Before he could say any more, his cell rang and he retrieved it from his pocket. Scowling at the number, he put the phone to his ear.
“Chief,” he answered. “Mmhmm. You’ve got to be kidding me. Again? Okay, I’ll hurry on up there now. Okay . . . meet you there in 15.”
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
Sulley went to the door and grabbed his coat.
“Oh, just Old Man Pinket shooting his shotgun at the Henley’s hounds again. I swear that old man is going to accidently kill someone trying to protect those damned chickens of his,” he said and then tuned to me.
“You want me to drop you off really quick? May not be a good idea for you to be here in case Gram wakes up. You know, until we know where she’s at.”
“No, I agree,” I said grabbing my coat, “but I think I want to walk. You need to hurry and I could use the fresh air. To clear my head.”
Sulley looked concerned as he contemplated.
“It’s not that far,” I reassured him.
“You sure you’re feeling up to it?” he asked, motioning to the lump on my head.
I waved him off. “I’m sure. I’m fine, you go.”
“Okay, well I’ll be out for a while. Usually takes us a good hour to get that shotgun out of Mr. Pinket’s hands and even longer to calm the neighbors. If I don’t see you, I’ll swing by in the morning.”
“Sounds great. Uncle Sulley?” I called to him as he left the house. He poked his head back in.
“I’m sorry about Gram,” I said.
Sulley smiled at me. “I know Kiddo, me too. Everything is going to work out.”
I watched Sulley’s truck pull out of the driveway and went back inside to grab my purse. Nadine was waiting at the door.
“Thank you, for everything,” I said. “I really hope she’s going to be okay.”
“Don’t you worry about Gram now; that’s my job. You’ve got enough to worry about.”
Before I left I paused at the door and turned again to face Nadine. I had to ask.
“In church today . . . when you pointed out that psalm. How did you know?” I asked.
Nadine patted my cheek and grinned at me, the wisdom of the universe in her eyes.
“Sometimes you just know,” she said softly and motioned me out the door.
With a nod I turned to go. It was hard to leave Gram, but Sulley was right. It wouldn’t be good for Gram to see me right away. Better to let her mind settle into wherever it was comfortable. That’s what my sensible, sensitive side was saying. Selfishly, I wanted to make her remember me again. I wanted so much to be able to talk with her about the past and the things she had said. What was she so afraid of? I wanted to talk to her about the future and everything that was happening now. I wanted to talk with her about Donovan. She would understand it. She may even be able to help me understand it.
Donovan. My one good reason to want to go home. I longed to see him again, even if for just a moment, reflected in the antique mirror on the wall. I knew he was with me, I heard him so clearly in the cemetery. “Go,” he had said, and Gram had come back to me, even if for just a short while. I owed that moment to Donovan.
As I made my way home, I wished that I could make my mind accept his presence. Why was it so hard to allow myself to just believe? I remembered the psalm that Nadine had shown me. “For He will command His angels concerning you; to guard you in all your ways.” I had read it over and over. It was right there in black and white, and yet still so unbelievable.
As I turned down the gravel road the sun lay hidden behind the grey clouds that rolled in, making it even darker than usual. Adding to the eerie effect was
the fact that the road was narrow and surrounded by dense wood on either side, and it was unnervingly quiet. I considered jogging the road to get to the end all the faster, but I didn’t want to risk the headache it was sure to cause. Deciding to walk it as quickly as I could, I chastised myself for how ridiculous I must look.
Lost in my thoughts, I was making fairy good time when I rounded the last curve. Soon I would be comfortably in my own neighborhood. As I maneuvered around some low-hanging foliage I saw a vehicle parked in the middle of the road ahead of me, brake lights glowing. I got closer, the small white truck and the rental plates giving me pause. Rick’s truck. Waving my hands, I started towards it in the hopes that he would see me and I could finally get a word with him.
As I got closer though, the engine revved, the tires spun in the gravel, and the truck took off, sending up dust and debris to hover above the road in a gray cloud.
“Rick, wait! Rick!” I yelled after him, but the truck sped off noisily down the last quarter mile of dirt road and then disappeared in the distance.
I stood staring, wondering if he had not heard me. Maybe it wasn’t Rick, I considered. Maybe I had stumbled upon a couple of teenagers in their favorite make-out spot or sneaking a smoke. Neither of those probabilities sat well with me though. I recognized those plates. It was beyond strange that Rick would speed off like that.
When I reached the end of the dirt road I took a deep breath, relieved. I scanned my street, but there was no trace of the white truck. Shrugging it off, I climbed my driveway and fetched the key from my purse and let myself in. I dropped my stuff in the entryway and went straight into the kitchen for something to eat. Grabbing a can of raviolis, I heated them up in a saucepan then went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine.
“I bit couldn’t hurt,” I sighed and poured myself a generous glass.
After dumping the dishes in the sink for later, I swigged the remainder of my wine. It was starting to numb the dull ache in my temples that formed during my walk home. I looked out the window above the sink and watched the sky grow steadily darker. Another storm was rolling in.
Man, I sure picked a great time to come back, I thought. I wished I would have considered storm season when deciding to make the trip. But I knew it wouldn’t have mattered at the time. My decision to get on the plane had been a hasty one at best. I had willed myself to make the trip before I lost the nerve to.
I went upstairs, this time turning off the downstairs lights. When I got to my room I held my breath and looked straight to the mirror, expectant. But Donovan was not there. With a heavy sigh, I collapsed on my bed, my head in my hands.
“I don’t know how to see you. I don’t know how to stop the doubts. I want more than anything to be able to hear your voice and thank you for today,” I whispered.
I looked up again, hoping that Donovan would appear in the reflection, but only my own disappointed face stared back at me. I cursed my weak faith and grabbed up my pajamas and went into the bathroom for another soothing shower. When I emerged dressed for bed and followed by a new cloud of steam, I again checked the mirror. When the steam started to form a fog, I squinted and searched the hazy glass for his dark figure. I stepped closer to the mirror and tripped over the box from the attic, spilling its contents all over the floor.
“Son of a . . .” I squealed, landing on the bed and rubbing my shin before bending down to gather up my mess. Something caught my eye. I plucked the yellowing envelope from where it sat wedged between the pages of my baby book. It had my name on it. For a minute I sat motionless and stared at my mother’s handwriting.
When I finally opened it, I found a hand-written letter. I hesitated, feeling the tears draw into my eyes before I even began to read. I blinked them back and steadied myself and then read.
My Dearest Alexandra,
Your due date was today. I guess you’re just too comfortable where you are to come out into the world just yet. I can’t wait to see you, my sweet one, and hold you in my arms. There are so many things I want for you. I was hoping to bring you into a loving, complete family, but it seems the Lord had other plans for us and I will trust Him.
I am very sorry about your father. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why he left in order to someday explain it to you. I guess it’s just one of those things you have to trust will work out for the best. As soon as we can, I promise, my angel, we are going to find a place to call our own; a safe place where we can start over and where we will be surrounded by wonderful people. You deserve that.
I want so much for you, baby girl. I want you to be happy and to grow up to be a woman of tremendous faith. That is my biggest prayer; for you to always see the good in things and to have faith in yourself and in God no matter what. Just remember, as I am remembering right now, that you don’t always have to understand the twists and turns in life, you just have to have faith that the journey will make you into who you were destined to become. You are meant for amazing things, I can feel it. I pray that the Lord always protect you and guide your steps in all that you do.
I love you so, so much my precious baby girl. I cannot wait to be able to tell you to your little face. This world will be so much more beautiful with you in it.
Love always,
Mom
Tears dropped onto the paper as I held it shakily in front of me, staring at the words but not seeing them anymore. Mom wrote this letter just before I was born. She was in so much emotional pain when she wrote it, yet she was able to look past all of it. She wanted to find a place where we could be happy, a place where we could start over, a place to call our own. Saluda had been that place. The house, I thought with a heavy heart, had been the culmination of that dream.
I thought about Gram and Sulley and Gary and all the loving people of this small town and realized that Mom had found all of the things she was looking for, for me. Everything my mother had prayed about had come true, except for one thing. I wasn’t the great woman of faith that my mother had hoped I would be. It was her greatest wish and I had let her down.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be,” I sobbed and hugged the letter to my chest.
“Oh, but you are,” I heard his velvet voice say against my ear.
My head snapped up and I blinked the tears from my eyes. Donovan’s image was reflected in the mirror. He smiled at me encouragingly. I instinctively looked from the mirror to my side where he should be standing, but saw nothing there.
“No, I’m not,” I said looking back into the mirror at Donovan. “I’ve been trying all day to have enough faith, to believe enough to be able to see you, but I couldn’t.”
I watched through the mirror as Donovan sat on the bed beside me. He placed his hand over where mine rested on the letter.
“Then why am I here now? You heard me today in the cemetery. Why do you think that is?”
I could feel warmth, like I had never felt before, tingle the skin on my hand. The gentle strumming vibrated against me, soothing me.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“It’s because in that moment, just like now, you weren’t trying to see. Faith isn’t something you try for. It comes when you let go, when you stop trying to understand. You have great faith Alexandra, when you stop telling yourself that you don’t.”
I shrugged, not entirely certain that what he said was true, but wanting it to be true more than anything.
“You cried out in faith in the cemetery that an answer would come and it did. You are speaking with me now because your mother’s letter shattered the doubts in your mind that I could exist. You are doing this Alexandra, not me. You are exactly the woman your mother hoped you would be,” Donovan continued.
A faint sob escaped my throat at his words and I fought to keep the tears away.
“Then why can’t I see you here beside me? Why can’t I open my mind enough to see?” I asked.
“That will come with time. Right now you just nee
d to remember that I am here with you, even when you can’t see me,” Donovan answered gently.
“Where do you go? When you’re not with me? You can’t be with me ALL the time . . .”
Donovan smiled. “I exist separately from you as I’ve said. I am from the spiritual realm, where you are in the physical. Where I am, time does not exist. For you, things are linear, life progresses on a forward line. It’s not like that or me at all. For me, everything is a series of moments . . . thoughts, feelings, all separate from time. I am always with you in that way, and in that way . . . I always have been.”
“Why me?” I asked.
“Why not you Alexandra? He sends us to protect all of His children, just like you read in that psalm today. But you are special. You’ve been given a unique gift, the gift of sight. You can see me, feel me, speak to me as you are right now. That is rare. It could be because of your mother’s prayers that you were given this gift.”
I contemplated what he said. I sure as hell didn’t feel like anything special. My mother had been. So why then was I here while she was gone?
“Where was my mother’s Guardian then? Or Gary’s? Where were they that night? Why wasn’t anyone protecting them? What about my childhood prayers for them?” I asked, trying to keep the anger that rose up from my gut from spilling over.
Donovan bowed his head and sighed, pain showing on his face.
“All I can offer you is assurance that it was their time to leave this world, and it was not yours. Your purpose is not finished.”
“My purpose? So what was my mother’s purpose then? To die young? To be violently murdered?” I spat, my words sounding too harsh even for me.
“No, Alexandra. You can’t judge a life by how it ended. Just know that her beautiful existence had a purpose. We all have one Alexandra, even me,” Donovan soothed.
“And what is yours exactly?” I sighed, the fight going out of me.
“To protect you,” he said looking into my eyes.
His words and the force of his stare made my heart skip in my chest.
“Protect me from what?”
“From an evil that would keep you from fulfilling your own purpose.”
“ I . . . I don’t understand.” I stood and paced the floor in front of the mirror. “What evil are you talking about?”
Donovan watched me pace and held my eyes in his. He spoke slowly.
“From the same evil that took your parents away from you fifteen years ago.”
I froze mid step. “The murderer . . . you know who he is!”
Donovan shook his head in the mirror. “No, I don’t know anything that you don’t. I just . . . sense things,” he tried to explain.
“But you were there that night! I remember. You had to have seen him!”
He raised a hand to rest it on my shoulder.
“I saw only you – that is all I was meant to see. This is your journey. I am not meant to interfere, only to ensure that you are able to see it through.”
I sat back on the bed, throwing my hands up in frustration.
“What does that even mean?”
Donovan motioned to the letter in my hand. “It’s like what your mother wrote in that letter: ‘You don’t always have to understand the twists and turns in life, you just have to have faith that the journey will make you into who you were destined to become.’ Your mother understood that after your father left. She accepted that his leaving was making her into who she was meant to be. Just like her death and what you must go through now will make you into who you are meant to become.”
Sighing, I laid back on the bed. I didn’t know what to think. So much was going through my head. I had never thought about my mother’s death that way. The anger and dejection had become comfortable to me. Donovan was forcing me to reevaluate the last decade and a half of my life.
“What if I don’t want to become what . . . HE wants me to be?” I asked. “What if all I ever wanted was to be happy with my family? Why was that plan not good enough?”
Donovan sat beside me on the bed. I expected to feel the movement as his weight sank into the mattress, but I didn’t.
“Sometimes it’s not about what we want. It’s about having faith that His plans for us are better than our own, even if we don’t understand them, or in your case, even if they seem cruel. There’s a bigger picture to everything. You don’t have to see it to believe in it.”
My anger was beginning to deflate, the weight of so many years easing with every word from him. Even if I didn’t understand everything he was saying, I could feel that he understood me. After being alone for so long, that was enough.
“So, it all comes down to faith again, huh?”
Donovan smiled. “Everything does.”
“So, what exactly it the plan then? If there IS a murderer coming back here . . .”
Donovan’s smile vanished. “He’s already here.”
“What?” I asked, startled. “What do we do?”
“I keep you safe,” he said placing his hand over mine once more.
Again I felt the slightest tingling heat. I looked down to where his hand should be and saw nothing. Would I ever get used to this?
A rumble from outside made me jump. The storm was here.
“How can you be sure he’s here, that he’s after me? You don’t know who it is. It’s been fifteen years, what could he possibly want from me now? Hasn’t he done enough?”
“It’s like I said before, I can sense it. I felt it as soon and you arrived in Saluda. It’s been growing stronger each day.” The concern on his face made his words all the more frightening.
“I can’t leave now though. I just got Gram back, and Sulley,” I said. “And this is where I feel closest to her . . . this is where she wanted us to be.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that you leave. In fact, I think you are meant to stay. You have to see this thing through, even if I don’t like it.”
“Then what are you suggesting?”
“That no matter what happens, you have faith. Have faith that you can overcome this evil, have faith that there is a greater plan at work, and have faith in me. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said holding my gaze and I knew, looking into his earnest face, that he would do anything to protect me. That he always had.
A crack of thunder erupted and seconds later a flash of light illuminated the darkened sky. I jumped and shut my eyes tight.
“Can you make this storm go away? I hate storms.”
“Sadly no,” he answered with a laugh. “But I can promise that it will not hurt you.”
“Well what kind of guardian angel are you?” I teased, trying to mask my fear with humor. “I mean, you don’t even have any wings.”
Donovan laughed again. I thought I could listen to that warm laugh forever, it was the sound of happiness. “Well I have you to thank for that I suppose.”
“Me?”
“I don’t think your mind could handle them. I guess for you, the wings were too much,” he said.
“Wait,” I struggled to understand as rain began to pelt against the window. “You’re saying that you don’t have wings because I don’t want you to?”
“I am saying that your mind accepts me better without. I cannot see your soul, but it doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
“You are great at giving confusing answers. Seriously, it’s a talent. You should give up this whole Guardian thing and go into politics.”
“And you are great at over-thinking questions and deflecting serious situations with humor. Perhaps you could be my campaign analyst?”
I chuckled and rubbed my temples where a steady ache was beginning to form. I knew that soon it would be a painful throbbing, but I didn’t care.
“Great, I got the angel with a sense of humor.”
Donovan got up from the bed. “You, me . . . we are all created alike. I laugh, I cry . . . I love.”
Our eyes met again through the glass reflection. I watched the emotion welling up in
side him though he fought to keep it from his face. How I wished I knew what he was hiding behind those kind but penetrating features. He walked to the head of the bed and motioned for me to follow.
“And I can also tell when you’ve had enough for one day. You need to get some rest. I’ve kept you up too long. Please, come lie down.”
“I’m not tired,” I lied.
I didn’t want the conversation to end, there were so many questions still unanswered. I doubted sleep would be possible with the storm raging outside like some kind of ominous warning of things to come.
“You can’t lie to me Alexandra. Now please, I asked you to trust me. You’re going to need your rest,” he pleaded.
I was reluctant, but not wanting to let Donovan down, I climbed into bed and laid my head on the pillow. Immediately the pain in my temples lessened and I realized I was much more tired than I had thought. Still, I couldn’t let him out of my sight. I didn’t trust myself enough to be able to see him in the morning.
When I looked back into the mirror Donovan was sitting at the foot of my bed. He smiled at me, but I thought I saw concern in the depth of his eyes.
“You’ll need to turn off the light if you expect to sleep,” he said.
“But if I turn off the light I won’t be able to see you anymore.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not here.”
With a sigh I reached up and switched off the light. I focused on the strumming sound that I knew was him. It filled the space between the growling thunder and kept me from panicking despite the storm and Donovan’s warnings. My mother’s murderer was close, and that thought made me tremble in the darkness. A loud clap of thunder like the cracking of a whip sent my pulse racing. I clutched at the corners of my pillow.
“Donovan?” I called out into the dark.
“Yes?”
“Do you ever get scared?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Sometimes.”
For some reason it made me feel better to know that he too had fears.
“Of what?”
For a long breadth he didn’t answer.
When the answer came, it was a whisper.
“That I will fail.”
I sighed and closed my eyes again. The answer should have scared me and made me doubt, but it didn’t. I felt better knowing that I would not be the only one forced to face their fears. Somehow, not being alone in that too steadied me.
Not being alone was everything. Donovan understood me and my fears, and in that moment as the sky exploded and growled, nothing else mattered. Soon my breathing fell into a steady rhythm with the gentle strumming beside me and my mind drifted closer to sleep.
“Donovan,” I whispered.
“Yes?”
“Stay with me. Please . . . all night.”
I felt his touch, like warm static, on my hand and my fingers eased around my pillow. The warmth stayed there as I followed the strumming into the peace of deep sleep. But before I was lost, I heard him whisper.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
